


torn

by dcb_z



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gen, Gore, it's pretty graphic i guess, so if that stuff makes u squeamish then uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcb_z/pseuds/dcb_z
Summary: A moment's distraction is all it takes.
Relationships: The Drifter/The Guardian (Hyper Light Drifter)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	torn

It took him a moment to reorient himself after teleporting in to the Crystal Forest. Once the world stopped swimming around him, Drifter stood and checked the area around the warp pad. As usual, it was clear, leaving him free to venture further west. 

He liked to think he’d gotten quite good at navigating these woods and their hazards. Here, a row of spike traps, all too easy for him to dash over now. Ahead, a wall of green crystal blocking his path; quickly, he broke them apart with his sword, then ran past them before they regrew. Crystal gunners: a carefully aimed deflection with his blade, then a final sword dash to finish them off. The knights: he dashes in close, gives them a point-blank taste of his shotgun, then side-steps their counter and they were simple for him to finish off. 

Yes, he had it quite figured out, but that didn’t make it any less tiring. He still had to be constantly alert, listening for any movement hidden within the swaying of the trees around him. And when there  _ was _ trouble, he was always dashing this way and that, sidestepping blows, swinging his blade, absorbing the recoil of his guns. Just because he’d gotten good at these things didn’t mean they were  _ easy. _

Drifter catches his breath at the edge of a cliff. Ahead of him were several platforms. He could see the glinting of embedded crystals in several of them.  _ Great. _ He hadn’t come through this part of the Crystal Forest yet-- this was all uncharted territory. It was no surprise to him that things got more treacherous the closer he got to the deranged general that hid within this place.

He takes a moment to stretch out his limbs, walking a slow circle as he started with his arms. The respite was nice, but it would not be long enough: no sooner had he turned his back to the series of platforms did he sense a pair of eyes piercing the back of his head. Familiar eyes, he might add.

Turning, he faces them. Across the series of platforms sits the Jackal, watching him. It always felt like that thing was silently beckoning him to follow. Deep down, Drifter knew that it was. “I suppose my rest is over,” he sighs, not caring whether or not it heard him.

Breaking into a sprint, Drifter quickly chain-dashes across the countless gaps. He hears the crystal traps bolting out of the ground behind him, striking only empty air where he had been hardly a split second before. Something about these moments had an undeniable thrill to them. Drifter knew that if his timing or landing was off by just a hair, he’d be injured or, worse, be sent tumbling down into god-knows-where only to soon awaken, disoriented, right where he came from. It was nice to not die in such a way, of course, but he would rather not keep going through all of this over and over.

A shot rang out up ahead. Drifter knows that gun: it was Guardian’s. The sound of it throws him off and he skids to a stop, gracefully falling onto his ass mere inches from a crystal trap. He was enough to set the trap off, and Drifter scoots away from it until it retreats into the ground.

Another shot, making Drifter jump to his feet. Already the Jackal was continuing along the path up ahead, presumably leading him towards Guardian. Quickly, Drifter dashes across the last few platforms. Without even breaking his chain to allow himself to catch his breath, Drifter follows the path that the Jackal had disappeared down. It opened up into a clearing full of dead bodies scattered across the ground, Guardian, and…

Guardian, but... different. Darker. Menacing. The sight of it sets Drifter’s ears ringing. Something within him screamed at him to run.

“Drifter!” Guardian shouts, catching sight of him. “Behind you!”

Drifter whirls around and sees himself, only his face has been replaced with a black void. He takes a step back and reaches for his sword as the doppelganger's face lit up with a fuchsia diamond.  _ Judgement. _ He swings at it, aiming for a swift killing blow just beneath its head, but his sword meets only air. The thing flickers in and out of existence before finally appearing inches from Drifter, its frigid hands gripping his wrists.

_ This isn’t real,  _ Drifter thinks to himself. The ringing in his ears is almost deafening now, making something deep in the base of his skull ache. His eyes dart between the diamond eye and his sword, clearly embedded in his doppelganger’s abdomen.  _ This can’t be real. _ The world seems to swim around him.

It vanishes as Guardian screams behind him. Drifter turns, still a little disoriented from the pain in his dead.

He sees blood. A lot of blood.

He sees Guardian’s doppelganger pulling its sword from a broad, deep slash into Guardian’s stomach.

He sees Guardian, stumbling back a few steps in shock, drop their weapon as their hands clutch the fresh wound.

“No!” Drifter shouts, dashing forward. He grips his sword with both hands, shoulders tensing for a swing. Guardian’s copy looks at him, then leaves him stumbling as it vanishes just as he swings at it. “Fucking hell!” He turns about the clearing, searching for the dark duo, but finds only Guardian on the ground in a pool of their own blood.

Drifter knows it’s bad. He can see organs barely held in by Guardian’s hands. He sheaths his sword and falls to his knees on the ground beside them, not caring that he’s landed himself right in their still-warm blood.

“Guardian--” He can feel the blood draining from his face. He’s seen his fair share of viscera, but something about seeing his own partner’s internal organs nearly spilling out is enough to make him feel sick. His hands tremble as he fumbles for a medpack beneath his cloak.

“Save it,” Guardian groans, voice thin. “It’s not going to help.”

“I can get you back to Central with it. I can stitch you up. I can fix this, Guardian.”

Drifter sees a trickle of blood fall from Guardian’s mouth to the fur trim of their cloak. They cough, spitting more blood as they do, but the involuntary movement is cut short with a cry of pain that Guardian doesn’t have the strength to cover up. Drifter’s hands lay gingerly atop Guardian’s, as if it’ll heal him.

He knows the medpack won’t do any good. He knows there’s no fixing this. “Please,” he whispers. “We aren’t done yet. You can’t die yet.”

Their hands grow colder as Guardian shakes their head only slightly. “Finish it. Kill Judgement.” Their voice is thick and laden with the blood collecting in their lungs.

Drifter grips one of Guardian’s hands. He doesn’t care that his fingers brush against their torn skin, soaking his gloves in blood. He can’t see the mess past the burning tears welling in his eyes. “Don’t go,” Drifter sobs weakly.

There’s no reply. No shaking of Guardian’s head. No cough. No instructions. Trembling, Drifter brings his fingers up to their neck and finds nothing.

He hadn’t realized how attached he’d become to the life flowing through this fellow drifter’s veins until it was gone.

He buries his face in the blood-stained fur of their cloak and keens, letting the sobs wrack his body. His hands smear blood over the chest of Guardian’s armor as they cling to him. It’s as if he believes that pressing himself against their lifeless body will somehow imbue them with the mixed blessing he has of always springing back to life. His tears mix with the blood in the fur as he cries, struggling to keep himself quiet.

_ This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. _

He knows it isn’t. He knows it’s real. The knowledge makes him feel sick. But Drifter can’t grieve forever. He has to keep going, just as Guardian told him to. To give up now would mean that his partner died in vain.

Drifter sits up and grabs his cape, wiping his hands and face clean on the edge of it. He stares at Guardian’s face for a few moments longer, then delicately closes their eyes. He unclips their cloak, then turns them onto their side to pull it off of them. Drifter folds it and drapes it over his arm and collects Guardian’s sword and companion sprite.

He stands, casting another painful glance down at Guardian’s still-warm corpse. Burials aren’t exactly a tradition of drifters, but with these, at least, Drifter can honor their memory, even if it stings.

“Thank you,” he murmurs before having his companion sprite warp him back to Central.

Somewhere deep within him, he hopes Guardian heard his gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> this was kinda inspired by one of the unused fates of guardian where judgement fucks him up real bad hawyee. also this is only halfway proofread because it was like 11:45pm and i really wanted to post it cuz i dont like it when fics take me more than like a day to complete and this one took me like, 2 days??
> 
> updoot: thanks to HLD discord member KofiZ for helping with proofreading and providing suggestions for some edits


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